


Since You've Been Mine

by theLazarus



Category: Greta Van Fleet (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Groping, Kissing, M/M, Smut-ish, domestic bliss honestly, just boys being boys, very hands-on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24427000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLazarus/pseuds/theLazarus
Summary: Sam & Danny quarantine themselves into falling in love.
Relationships: Sam Kiszka & Danny Wagner, Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Since You've Been Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luluthechoosingcrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luluthechoosingcrow/gifts).



> This is for Lulu! I'm obsessed with this fic myself--very happy with where your request led me! I feel like this ended up being very canon & I am now in love with the fantasy.

The excitement of moving to, and of course living in, LA had diminished significantly. The sunny sky outside the balcony was still beautiful, objectively, but with each passing day of isolation Sam could see more and more of the smog that hung over the city and sneaked into car windows, apartments, the cracks in the sidewalks, his own lungs even. He exhaled, imagining the smog leaving his body and replaced with the cool, clean air of home, all pine trees and grassy plains. 

It felt even further away. He’d always been shit with phone calls and texts--it had never seemed to matter much before. He’d get to them eventually, who cared? But with the lockdown, quarantine, whatever you wanted to call it, they suddenly seemed more imperative. Still, he was tired. Drained. Drained even without touring. Actually, Sam felt like he would really prefer nearly nightly shows to being cooped up inside every night with little more than his own rabbit heart beating anxiety into every breath.

Thank god he had Danny. But that was another issue--something had happened in quarantine, something that he knew both of them figured would happen sooner or later and it had only taken a few weeks of being (re)attached at the hip to make reality. They were together--a couple, an “item,” as Danny liked to say because he thought it sounded cool and hip. Sam knew that his family wouldn’t bat an eye, at least not for very long, nor would any of their friends (he thought their friends may have suspected long before he himself had even known what he felt) but the idea of revealing that new aspect of his and Danny’s relationship made him recoil. In a way, he wished the quarantine would persist longer than predicted if only to prevent them from having to tell anyone. For now, he could chalk it up to them being best bros, to them living in the same city so it was easier to just crash together more nights than not. 

No one else knew they’d been sleeping in the same bed, though. No one else knew that Sam curled into Danny’s side and had a strong, warm arm slung over him against the drift of the a/c. He wanted those things to be kept in the dark for a while longer.

“Sam!” Danny called over the sounds of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club, making Sam turn around, backing himself up against the railing of the balcony and looking in through the open sliding glass doors. Probably instigated by his nonverbal response, Danny sighed and approached the open doors, grabbing the handle and beginning to slide it. “The air is on. Don’t keep this open.”

Sam jutted his chin out and braced his hands on the railing, cocking his elbows. “C’mere.”

Danny rolled his eyes but smirked. He stepped out onto the balcony, shutting the glass door behind himself, and crossed his arms in front of Sam. “You were supposed to help me clean the kitchen,” he said, the scolding tone made less serious by the smirk and the rosiness that blossomed over his cheeks. “I’m not the one who decided to make, uh, what was it again? _Soup_ in 85 degree weather?” 

“Vegetable paella,” Sam corrected. Attempting to converting Danny to veganism--even vegetarianism--was challenging, but Sam liked cooking more than him and they were in his apartment, after all. It didn’t matter if Danny had taken charge, having turned into a domineering househusband of sorts, it was still Sam’s domain and he wasn’t planning on letting Danny leave anytime soon, for more than one reason. 

That cheeky smirk and broad body were two reasons. Sam couldn’t resist him, not with the 8pm sun casting slanted shadows over Danny’s face and bare arms, the brushstrokes of domestic exertion painted over him. 

Danny moved next to him, facing the skyline, his hands gripping the railing with his left just touching the edge of Sam’s pinky. Sam turned his cheek enough to take in the dark, distinct profile--there was no mistaking that face with anyone else, not a single other person in the entire world. That face, among so many other things, kept Sam constantly interested. He liked watching the expressions Danny made--especially subconscious ones--and he liked studying the lines and curves, every millimeter of smooth, olive skin. Where did he even come from? 

“I’ll help,” Sam said, turning around and pressing his wrists against the railing, stretching his arms out and arching his back like a cat, watching Danny watch him. “Should get high first. It’s the perfect night for it.”

“After,” Danny countered, his eyes following the curving and then straightening out of Sam’s backside. “It’s the perfect night to get high every night.”

“Nothing else to do,” Sam said, it coming out as more of a grumble than he’d intended.

“Now you’re whining? You were just telling me you were starting to like quarantine.”

“You’re exaggerating. I don’t ‘like’ it.”

“Alright, well, like it or not, we’re in it. And kitchens get dirty.”

Sam smirked to himself and sidled up to Danny, running one fingertip down his arm. “So do other things.”

“Yeah, like our sheets,” Danny replied. He was quick tonight--maybe Sam’s household neglect really was getting under his skin. His mind made a jump, though--Danny had said _their_ sheets. Not Sam’s sheets.

Sam rested his chin on Danny’s shoulder. “I’ll do the laundry. Strip the bed of those dirty sheets and get them nice and clean. Just for you.” The smirk started to turn into a real smile on Danny’s lips--the same color as a rose, Sam thought, at least from what he could remember. He felt like it had been a while since he’d seen a rose with quite that shade of brilliant, deep pink. 

“Hmm?” he went on, ducking to press his forehead against Danny’s shoulder, giving him a gentle headbutt. He felt strong arms wrap around him then.

“What if we got In-N-Out tonight?” Danny asked, apparently his mind still elsewhere even with his arms around Sam.

Sam scoffed and wiggled away. “No! I’m not paying 12 dollars for delivery. Besides, I can’t eat anything from there.”

“Fries. Veggie burger?”

“That’s just tomato and onion on a bun! Fuck off.”

Danny huffed, rolling his eyes again. “I just want a burger, Sam.” He turned and gestured to himself. “Do you think I’m just made of soy and yerba mate?” 

Sam snickered. “Right now you are.” He could see that Danny was actually somewhat serious--about the burger part anyway--and was probably still a little pissed about being the only one cleaning up Sam’s own messes, so he relented. “Okay, well, I have actual veggie burgers here--I’ll make one special for you, Daniel.” His “other half” wasn’t relenting--in fact, he was scowling--so Sam went on: “I swear, I’ll make it good. I’ll use the real cheese, too.”

Danny held his ground for another moment and then relaxed. “Okay.” He cocked his head to the side and looked off elsewhere, then met Sam’s eyes again as he moved forward, pressing Sam against the wall. He dipped down and said quietly in Sam’s ear, “I’m not gonna clean up the dishes this time.”

A whine was already threatening to escape Sam’s chest. He put his hands on Danny’s waist--no, definitely not made of only soy and wheat grass and sprout salad. He brushed his thumbs over his ribs and tried to pull Danny closer, but his best friend kept his feet glued to the floor and hips solid, not moving as Sam tried to gently cajole him. 

Genuine worry struck him again, a different sort of anxiety flooding his veins, and he looked into Danny’s eyes hesitantly. “Are you really mad at me?”

Danny looked a little surprised. “No! I couldn’t be.” He reached out and stroked some of Sam’s hair back. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“Okay, because--” Sam started to respond, but a level of vulnerability that he wasn’t sure he wanted to express then--not even to Danny--started to breach. He looked down and held Danny tighter. “All of this sucks and it would suck a lot more if you were mad at me.”

“We’ve basically been living together for six weeks,” Danny reminded him, his tone gentle. “If this is the only time you think I’ve gotten mad at you, I’d say we’re doing okay.”

“What about after all of this?” Sam continued, heart racing. “What about when things go back--you know, go back to normal?”

Danny knew. “Quarantine or us?”

Sam hesitated for a moment. “Us.”

“We can do whatever you want, Sam.” Danny’s hand looped around the back of Sam’s neck and he lightly tapped his fingertips over his spine. “I just like having you around.”

Sam laughed. “Having _me_ around? You’re in _my_ apartment. You should just stop paying rent at your--” He stopped himself, realizing what he was saying. Even though Danny had essentially moved in, they’d never talked about that for what it was, or it becoming a permanent reality.

“Should I get on your lease?” Danny asked, saying it almost like a joke but Sam knew he wasn’t. Neither of them were. 

Sam looked into Danny’s eyes again and felt himself blush. His hands slid lower, to the hem of Danny’s shirt and then up and under, his fingers skating over hard muscle and a bit of coarse hair. “Maybe,” was all he said, instigating a staring contest, knowing Danny would be the one to break it and kiss him. Always.

Danny let the suspense--and their suppressed giggles--build for another few seconds and then he moved in and kissed Sam so hard his head knocked back against the wall, though he was immediately recovered with Danny’s hand still on the back of his neck. Sam’s right hand instinctively slipped underneath his waistband--he wondered if the overwhelming desire just to fuck around and eat and get high would ever diminish, if they truly would become some sated old married couple--and grabbed him. 

Danny hummed against Sam’s mouth and kissed him even harder, parting his lips and sliding his tongue over the other’s as he gave in too. Sam felt his other hand come around his wrist and gently pull him away from his crotch; Sam tried to weave his hand back under his shorts but Danny insisted, pulling Sam’s hand away and pinning his wrist back against the wall, arm straight down.

“Ouch,” Sam said with a smirk. “You are mad.”

Danny’s eyes widened and he loosened his grip. “Did that hurt?”

Sam laughed. “No. You’re just fucking strong.”

The grip tightened, Danny’s fingers circling Sam’s bird-boned wrist again for a few seconds before he lifted that wrist up to his mouth; he locked eyes with Sam and pressed his mouth to the underside of his wrist, giving a gentle kiss right where Sam’s veins and pulse were fluttering. 

“Stop that,” Sam commanded, though his voice was already wavering on the second word. “Unless you’re gonna give me more.”

“Can’t I be gentle?” Danny replied, dark lashes framing challenging eyes, and kissed his wrist again. 

Sam groaned and twisted away again, leaning up against the railing. He liked when Danny was gentle. He also liked when Danny pinned him to the bed, legs up, knees hooked in his elbows, and just pounded into him until they both eventually collapsed into one another. “Can’t you let me jerk you off right now?” 

“So you can watch my jizz drip ten stories down?” Danny questioned and moved in, capturing Sam’s hands and swinging him forward into himself. “Seems rude, Sam.”

Sam snickered a little at the image; he wrapped his arms around Danny’s neck, long fingers going for the messy bun and threatening to undo it until Danny reached up and snatched one arm down again. Sam tried to wiggle away again but Danny held his wrist tight and held his own ground, blocking him, so Sam pulled him forward by the back of his neck and planted a sloppy kiss to his mouth.

“I should start that laundry,” Sam remarked, successfully shaking Danny’s grip away. 

Danny pulled him back, the flash of a challenge gleaming in his eyes again. “So you’re taking back your offer?” 

Sam didn’t want that to ever end--the teasing whiplash of their back and forth, Danny’s hold on him, their rolling around in sheets--dirty and clean alike--and even their bickering that ultimately led to kisses that still felt so new, still so experimental but so right. 

“I’ll make you cum so hard,” Sam promised, leaning into him and breathing the words low and slow against his neck. “Get those clean sheets dirty all over again, you’ll give me so much--” And suddenly he was airborne--he wrapped his legs around Danny’s hips and grappled for support with his hands, clinging to broad shoulders while sturdy wrists and forearms propped his ass up.

“After,” Danny insisted, turning and heading for the sliding glass doors, Sam’s back to them. Before Danny could struggle with the handle, Sam reached behind himself and managed to pull it--aided with Danny sliding the rest of it with his foot, they managed enough room to squeeze back inside the air conditioning.

Sam readied himself to be plopped back down to earth but Danny kept him suspended, carrying him into the kitchen and setting him down on top of the counter. He also expected more foreplay, even if it would end up giving him blue balls, but Danny only asked as Sam’s limbs let him go, “So no In-N-Out?” 

Sam slid off the counter and went to the fridge. “No--stop it. I’ll cook for you, Daniel.” He bent over to get the veggie burgers from the bottom shelf--definitely not passable as pretend meat, but he had some things in mind that could make them more palatable for his carnivorous best friend--and felt Danny’s hand on his lower back. 

“Should I start the laundry?” Danny asked, running his palm along Sam’s skin, unfortunately covered by his t-shirt.

Sam straightened and slithered to the side to set what he’d gathered onto the counter. “No. I’ll do that. Anyway, we should wait until after I make you shoot your load.” 

Danny snorted, laughed, and leaned against the counter. “I guess I get to just watch you.”

Watch him do more than one mildly labor-intensive activity--Sam grinned in response and began prepping what he needed, grabbing a pan and putting it on the stove. He liked cooking, but he liked cooking for Danny more. Danny even pulled up a chair from the little dining table and sat it at the edge of the kitchen, sitting in it with the back of the chair pressed against his torso, leaning down on his forearms while keeping his eyes on Sam the entire time.

Sam liked it--it felt like more magic, juvenile or honeymoon-phase-induced or whatever, it was magic between them. He could get used to the domestic aspects of their relationship. Well, he realized he had gotten used to that with Danny simply being with him for so long. Sam had always imagined that with a girl, a woman, but Danny had apparently beaten every possible alternative to that slot--bandmate, best friend, roommate, friend-with-benefits, lover, partner. 

Danny was solid enough to withstand whatever blow--however unlikely--they might receive by revealing their new partnership. Sam was too, he couldn’t completely discredit himself, but he also knew his internal fire could so easily be urged outward and had the potential to burn, really burn. He didn’t want to think about it, though--he wanted to keep stealing sideways glances at Danny watching him and make his new partner the best veggie--or any--burger he’d ever had. He’d try, anyway.

“What are you going to make for the side?” Danny asked, his voice making Sam startle a little--he hadn’t realized they’d both been silent until then. “If you say ‘salad,’ I will walk out the door.”

“Which door?” Sam chirped. “The balcony door or the front door?”

“Whichever door will get you to make something that’s not a damn salad.”

Sam smirked as he sliced two rolls. “What do you want then?”

“Hmm, something salty. Greasy. Fried.”

Sam went back to the fridge and opened the freezer, poking his head inside. Some of Danny’s favorites had infiltrated the apartment, no doubt, but Sam still kept a small stock of things he couldn’t leave behind either, even if he had to swap out full milk-fat ice cream for dairy-free. He spotted a shiny red plastic corner and yanked it out, beholding the bag of frozen french fries in front of Danny: “We can’t fry ‘em, but we can bake ‘em.”

Danny stood up and grabbed the bag, apparently needing to take charge of one thing so Sam wouldn’t spoil it. Even with that very realistic notion hanging in the air, Danny reached one arm around Sam and his hand snaked up his t-shirt, fingers stroking the small of his back as he read the instructions on the bag. 

Sam wasn’t even sure if Danny knew he was doing it. Maybe they’d already come so far that those intimate touches were just a part of their daily life and they didn’t need to be examined under a microscope or contemplated for too long, or at all. He was already melting into Danny’s hand anyway, nearly forgetting that he needed to flip the veggie patties, grappling for the spatula while still trying to maintain close contact. 

He exhaled quietly, only to himself, when Danny’s hand left him to get a baking sheet--he squeaked a little when the same hand that had been on his lower back grabbed his ass hard, fingertips digging into the little bit of plushy flesh Sam had to offer. 

Danny leaned into him, squeezing his ass again: “I can’t wait for dessert.” 

Sam pretended it didn’t faze him, raising his eyebrows and looking down at the sizzling pan as he flipped one patty; internally, he was burning with a fire that wouldn’t destroy, only consume, a hunger he wished would be forever insatiable. 

Stealing a look at Danny next to him, he felt like both a hormonal teenager again and also aged and grey with experience--maybe that’s what love felt like.


End file.
